


If there is a Key, there has to be a Lock

by hellhoundsprey



Series: twinsanity!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Twins, Bottom Dean, Bottom Jensen, First Time Bottom Dean, Incest Kink, M/M, Multi, Older Jared, Shy Jensen Ackles, Sir Kink, Size Kink, Spanking, Teenage Rebellion, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Jared, Twincest, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the "cool uncle" from the flat across the corridor and giving them a place to take a few hours off their strict father’s parenting, Jared quickly collects bonus points from the real vivid and real charming twins Dean and Jensen. He's their epitome of a father-figure, best friend, role model… and is it just him or does he serve as a big giant crush for at least one of them as well?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If there is a Key, there has to be a Lock

**Author's Note:**

> The typing errors in the text messages are intended because Dean's a dork.

After two years in one building and exactly six feet across the corridor with the twins, Jared has pretty much mastered telling them apart. It's not as easy as it seems with one being just as loud and (let's be honest) annoying as the other. Big mouth? Check. Stunning good looks and painfully aware of that? Check. The most nosy and attention-starved kids Jared's ever come across? Check.

But there's the small things time has taught him, like how their freckles are differently peppered all over their damn too-perfect faces; more on the nose on Jensen and more around the eyes on Dean. Or how Jensen blooms with a new piece of literature while Dean prefers devouring comics hanging upside-down from Jared's couch.

It's not like they're a pain in the ass twenty-four-seven though, no. Their Dad raised them good, Jared would like to say, but on the other hand - how good can his parenting be if the boys hang out in his apartment more often than not instead of their own? He talked to John a few times but never had been the one to initiate the conversation. With a scary, grumpy face like John's, it's not exactly a miracle Jared is put off by him. One could say he's afraid of the man, but nah, that's a little much interpretation there. He simply is _aware_ of how he put his boys through military training since the moment they popped out of his passed wife's womb, served in Iraq himself and sleeps with a knife underneath his pillow... That's not fear, that's _precaution_.

When Jared imagines the three Winchesters crammed into that little apartment he knows is designed just the way his one is, he can't help but get physically sick from the tension there must be with way too little space for actual privacy. All Winchesters seem to be extremely stubborn and the few times Jared's heard John scold the boys, it absolutely didn't sound like fun. He knows they explode with life once they're with him, away from their Dad, safe and free to do more or less everything they'd like. It's a shame, really a shame. Jared can't leave them alone and let them run into walls or God knows what else, he just can't. If it helps them to be with him, to have a place they can come to and relax, that's what he'll provide them with.

They're good boys, really. Like right now, it's peaceful and nice to have them around. It's just Jensen, actually, absently playing something on the guitar Jared once bought out of spontaneous over-enthusiasm to impress Jess with his musicality. The story ended in Jared finding out he hasn't got any, resulting in the guitar collecting dust until the twins raided his bedroom and Jensen practically instantly managed to play it. Like when Dean has something mechanical to craft or repair in his hands, Jensen zones out completely when he produces little melodies like he does right now, eyes turned down to where his fingers and plectrum fly, his bangs never long enough to cover all of his forehead but at the limit of how long John allows them to grow.

Other people's bills are splayed over Jared's desktop as he tries to get them in order. There's coffee in his cup and little money on his bank account, so passing the time as a tax consultant is his way of coping with the lack of an actual job. When the fuck did the economy run out of need for Stanford-educated lawyers with spotless CV's?

The buzz of Jensen's phone pulls him out of the world of numbers and grown-up problems into his kind of "teenage sanctuary" the boys let him take part in, a world where the only problems are homework, girls and whether or not you get invited to that popular kid's party.

Jensen doesn't even flinch though.

"Don't you wanna see who…?" Jared starts.

"'S just Dee."

"Oh." It doesn't take long from turning back to his work until his own phone goes off. Jared's more curious than Jensen (and maybe desperate to get away from work for a change), so he taps the screen to read. It's from Dean, naturally.

_tell that bitch to stop choking on yo dick for a sec and look @ his phone instead goddammit_

The screen is turned back to black with an irritated face and a bit of shame about the fact Jared lets a seventeen-year-old talk to him like that. Being an adult and one year past the "biblical" (to quote the twins) count of forty birthdays, it's almost a compliment to him to still being seen as able to have something like a sexuality. Or, to be exact, a sexuality that includes someone less than half his own age.

They do this all the time, comments and jokes they clearly shouldn't make, but that seems to make it even _more_ fun - next to Jared blushing and getting really upset, that is, which he grew out and tired of with time. Currently, he's at the point of joking right back; right now plays with the idea of responding something along the lines of "he's got his hands full as well, sorry", imagines Dean's laugh and that thing he sometimes does with his mouth Jared can't really concentrate on what exactly it is, something involving his bottom lip and either his tongue or teeth or maybe both? It took a lot of him to start this habit since he knows it's a very thin line between "the cool uncle next door" and "the perv who asked me which color my underwear is". He'd never want to make the boys uncomfortable, he's careful. They don't need another adult they don't trust.

But that look on their faces, especially the first few times when they absolutely didn't expect a comeback from him… Priceless, simply priceless. He's never been able to shut them up or make them drop their jaws before and since it's a kind of addicting thing to do, he turned it into a regular one.

Nowadays, he earns a laugh or smirk or that mouth-thing, a daring or… well, _flirting_ look. There just isn't another word for it, really. The thing develops into a longer chain of call and response, one flirt after the other, until one side doesn't dare to go further. Usually, Jared is that particular side, because, no, boys, I will _not_ tell you what I think about when I jerk off, not even if you ask nicely with your eyes so dreamy and your shoulders so lax and your mouths so pouty they make me think of my ex-girlfriend who left me for someone nowhere near my charms and talents but with five cars and a Black Card. My ex-girlfriend who, when I think about it, gave me exactly that look you give me whenever she wanted to-

Another buzz and Jared is really thankful for it.

_be thre in 5_

_pull up yo panties + opn the door_

_if you prefer me not kicking it in_

He sighs and pushes his glasses up his head, rubs the bridge of his nose in between his eyes. Even if it's a bit stressful to serve as the twins' father-figure, caretaker, counselor and best buddy all at once, it's a nice change to his grey everyday-business. The kids still got fire in them, that spark that makes you feel alive. There had been slumber parties, long, long nights and mornings over DVD's and talking and whispers and secrets he got to take part in. Behind the façade of sex-driven, superficial boys, he can sense them growing up to become great men, sensual and intelligent beyond everything they maybe think of themselves as capable of. When Dean looks at his younger twin like he's his moon and stars and maybe rushes his hand through his brother's hair or when Jensen gleams at his older twin like he'd walk through fire and ice just to prove his affection and worth, yes, then Jared's sure the boys are on their right way.

They call him "uncle", nowadays with a little twisted smirk instead of the intentionally innocent way. He knows they don't think of him as particularly _old_ , that they just joke with him like that, nag him. Depending on their mood and his generosity, he's "Uncle Jay" for Dean or "Uncle Jared" for Jensen. If they want to be really mean, it's "Mr. Padalecki" for Jensen or "Mr. Padaleski" for Dean. He has told them many times to just call him "Jared" because, yes, okay, maybe he wants to be seen as one of them, a teenager, cool, young, "hip", because fuck, he _feels_ like it when he's with them, is so full of energy he wants to jump in with them and brag about whatever sexual details he can dig up from his "wild years" he is very sure the twins would be impressed about. They don't believe his protests regarding his sexual potential but it never goes beyond "I am _not_ impotent, Jen." - "Then prove it, grandpa!" - "… Don't you have homework to do?", the reason being said conflict of Jared not wanting to cross the line the twins somehow love to poke and torture and blur while he desperately keeps it up with the last strain of dignity they leave him with.

Too unwilling to go back to work since he'll get interrupted again soon anyway, Jared gulps down the rest of his coffee and turns to face his couch with Jensen on it. "Not seeing Valerie today? Weren't you practically head over heels for her this week?" From what he's heard, Valerie is one of the prettiest girls at the twin's high school. Of course, one of them got to date her at last. He's seen pictures, even though he insists on only seeing not-explicit ones only (which narrows the boys' supply down harshly) and wow, the girlfriends these two get are the crème de la crème only. No wonder, since the twins are stunningly beautiful themselves. Good thing to know not only Jared thinks like that about them.

The music goes on while Jensen doesn't answer but silently smiles to himself - which is never a good sign. Jared opens his mouth to ask what in God's beautiful world he's done to her, but Jensen's faster with a smooth: "There's Dee."

And, yes, there _is_ Dean, introducing himself with heavy blows of his fist against Jared's poor doorframe. There are curses from outside Jared has come painfully familiar with and he rolls his eyes while he gets up to let the devil in. One smooth flick of his wrist and the knob's turned and Dean stomps right past him, throws his backpack and then kicks his shoes carelessly off himself. Jared squints angrily at the mess and gives himself as much as two seconds of deciding on whether to scold the boy or not before deciding for the latter.

While trotting off into the little kitchenette, Jared absently hears Jensen's play stumble when Dean slumps down on the couch with him. "Man, such a hard day," the older twin exclaims and probably makes a gesture as if he was dying, as far as Jared knows this particular voice of his. Then, there's the addition of "With Valerie" and it's so dirty he feels like rubbing the boy's mouth out with soap.

The coffee machine works its ways while Jared waits and frowns, shouldn't ask, really shouldn't, but damn, he's just too curious. "Another Valerie?" The coffee flows. "That name's _'in'_ right now or what?"

The twins snort with laughter and Jared's thankful for how slow that damn machine runs.

"No, Uncle Jay," Dean splutters, "it's not exactly _hippedy-hop_. And, nah. Only one Val in this little world."

Jared frowns harder. "No."

"Yes."

"Uh-hu," Jensen adds, barely holding back his laugh.

Blinking at his coffee, Jared presses his lips together tightly. He doesn't want to hear about it, he really, really doesn't. It's none of his business and it will be dirty and he shouldn't encourage them to talk about their escapades even more than they are doing it anyway. Right?

He grabs his refill and re-appears in the doorframe. The twins are on the couch, as assumed; Dean with his head in Jensen's lap like no big deal, "no homo" as they state from time to time but never in equal numbers to the times they behave like "not" it. Even brothers as close as them should have somewhat of a morally barrier somewhere around the belt of each other's pants, shouldn't they?

Jared swallows some air before he is stupid enough to speak again. "Seriously, boys? _Seriously_?"

"Abso _lutely_ seriously," Dean states drily.

"Hey, don't judge. We've shown you pictures. She's smokin', man. Princess deserves twice the cock."

"She didn't even notice it wasn't Jen," Dean smirks and it somehow makes Jared want to throw up into his cup.

"Oh boys," he moans, "You can't do that to that poor girl, really-"

"Little Val's real _hungry_ , Uncle Jay. Jen got bored of plowing her like three times a day, so I jumped in for him like the good brother I am. By the way, Jen, gimme my necklace back, will ya?"

Jared's ignored quickly, of course, groans and gets back to his office chair while Jensen puts the guitar down to instead shuffle around underneath the collar of his t-shirt. He produces a tiny, golden amulet on a black leather string.

There isn't any occasion Jared can think of Dean hasn't been wearing that thing except for their little tricks and pranks they love to pull on people. It's one single thing even untrained eyes can tell the twins apart by. It isn't a said fact but judged by the way Dean holds it as dear as his brother himself, Jared assumes that Jensen gifted it to him once.

As if it was made of glass and will break under a touch a tad too harsh, Dean brushes his fingers over the figurine's features once Jensen is done pulling it over his head. Back in place, complete. Dean smiles absently and Jensen slaps his forehead. They snicker in unison, Dean looks up at his brother. "Oh, and please stop doing the naughty at school, seriously. People want to go to the bathroom in peace and I do not want to taste your come on our girlfriend's tongue."

Jensen laughs while Jared splatters coffee up his nose. "Shut up. You love it!"

"Damn right I do-" Dean looks almost dreamy, affectionate, just like Jensen looks down on him with what could be a knowing smile. "- but it's distracting, sweetheart. Can't concentrate on her clit when I gotta think of your pretty dick between my-"

"GUYS." They laugh at him and okay, he deserves it for the coffee-accident, but something inside of him tells him Valerie _doesn't_. "Seriously, you shouldn't do that to her!"

"Everybody wins," Jensen argues with a dismissive blow of air from his nostrils, "so it isn't a bad thing to do."

"It's not cheating if both guys' DNA is identical, Jay. Twins don't count. That's _science_."

"Exactly. As a matter of fact, you're probably just _jealous_ of her."

"Yeah, bet you'd just love being part of a nice 'n juicy Winchester-sandwich, wouldn't you?"

Too much, too far, Jared can do nothing but roll his eyes so deep back into his skull and back that it fucking hurts as much as the boys' dumbness. He won't pour any more oil into this fire and that's that. Very happy about the one hundred and eighty degree spin his chair allows, he hunches back over the bills. "This conversation is over."

"Very classy, Tyler-Durden-ing your way out of this, Padaleski." Dean sounds like a kindergarten kid who just got his favorite toy taken away from him. If only this pop culture reference actually made any point at all, considering being trapped with those two in here anyway.

While the twins enthusiastically get into composing a song titled "He wants the D… and J" which they unfortunately start reciting in endless loops after only five short minutes of preparation, Jared is amazed about how appealing typing sum after sum into his calculator is all of a sudden. All he has left is the sad option of sitting this out and pray for them to forget about this damn tacky song soon.

Man. Nothing makes you feel young again like your all-time favorite bullies half-singing and -laughing a song about you and your dick.

* * *

It took a respectable amount of hours to have them grow tired of hanging around him while Jared's full attention lied on his work and his work only. They probably figured that their own flat was not any less appealing anymore, so they left. Jared goes to bed when his client's worth is finished, shuffles into the thick covers all alone.

If she'd turn up on his doormat, he's not sure if he'd stab or fuck her right then and there. Maybe both… in a not too-disturbing order. Or none; just stare and gape at her like a brain-dead zombie he (hands down) simply _is_ for that beautiful woman, despite what she's done and all the swearing and curses Jared's put upon her in endless nights in bars and friends' living rooms.

Even though he's a giant, the bed feels empty, a fling here and there never filling that space eternally reserved for her, gaping and pulling at him in the hard nights and simply leaving a sting in his chest during the light ones.

But he sleeps. After many, many months, _sleeps_. Gave up another notch, a spark of hope. She won't come back, no use sitting awake all night waiting for the heavenly click-clack of her stilettos.

He's almost out but then hears his front door.

Blinks awake, dumb with tiredness.

Sees long limbs in cotton boxers.

"Hey. Jen. Buddy. What's wrong?"

He should have never ever given that kid a key to his apartment. No, he never gets tired of telling that to himself every damn time he gets ripped out of his sleep by at least one of the twins letting themselves in.

From what Jared can make out in the dark and his dulled brain activities, Jensen looks tired as well, no, _worn out_. Old. Cold. Clumsy. "I just. Uhm. Can I sleep here tonight?"

Jared knows the line; a "secret" code for "I can't stand breathing the same air as my father for another minute", so Jared's all soft and sorry again and mumbles a not very reflective "alright". Instantly, he feels the bed dip and nudges his face back into his pillow, notices Jensen slipping underneath the covers behind him and grunts a "night" into the nothing surrounding them.

If there had ever been a time this had been uncomfortable or strange, Jared has long forgotten about it by now; the boys slipping into bed with him like a treasure they share with him, safety and trust and affection he knows they would never get from their Dad and, with their mother dying during childbirth, they're pretty much out of options if it wasn't for dear Uncle Jared. So he accepts, relaxes, soothes with the jerks behind and around and under him, snoring like he remembers his grandpa used to do it; loud and without a worry in the world. If they could only always be this easy, he wishes.

Just a few heartbeats and Jared's as good as gone again until there's a soft finger poking at his back and starts to paint slow, meaningless patterns.

He wonders if he should protest… but it's actually feeling very nice… so he doesn't.

Goose bumps tickle up his neck, around his chest. The women he usually takes with him (for a night only, nothing more or less) aren't the type who do these tiny, affectionate kinds of things. He'd never want them to, chooses hard business ladies he knows will be self-assured, effective, and won't expect flowers and chocolate and a wedding ring the next morning. Would never let another woman take Jess' place, his heart still so full of all the little things she carved in there that it feels a little bit like bleeding boiling honey when the scars are ripped open.

But he lets Jensen dig up as much as he wants from his broad, old back, because it can take it, will carry another two humans who need him to be strong for him, to look out for him.

Something in Jared sets off his belly when the finger becomes finger _s_ and they slide up his back, neck, into his hair, scrub there. A sigh escapes him; it just tickles too much. One shiver down his spine, one right down his stomach.

There is something different. Jared can't put his finger on what exactly it is though. Only his inner voice telling him to watch out and knotting his guts up in tight and tighter balls.

Jensen presses his forehead into the patch of naked skin where Jared's neck starts and the seam of his t-shirt ends and uhm, yes, the finger can be put now and no, Jared does _not_ like that place.

His thoughts run a thousand miles a minute while he's painfully aware of how boiling hot and freezing cold waves crush their ways through his body, how nervous he suddenly is, nervous like a freaking school girl whose crush noticed her finally and oh God he wished he'd never known this feeling. But no, this isn't it, no, he's simply irritated by how Jensen got it all wrong, breathes into his skin securely covered by worn-out cotton so hot it stings, as if this was anywhere near okay.

A kiss to his back is his signal that he fucking ran out of time to think; babbles a faint "hey" despite of his throat's efforts to cut off all possible sounds forever together with his air supply. It doesn't do much more than startling the kid and the following silence only lets Jared hear his own heartbeat ringing in his ears along with his own panic-y breath.

Another kiss and sweat starts pouring from his skin the instance he barks another, now harsher "Hey!" and turns his head over his shoulder for a proper "stop that, you little shit"-look.

What he finds are wet teenager eyes fixed on his own, wide and, what the, is that anticipation he reads in there? Jared's heart does a double-jump in his chest at the sound of a tiny, almost overheard "mh" and the restart of slow circles over his back.

"Hey, what's up with you?! Stop that!" He's in trouble. Serious trouble. A heartbeat this close to his tongue just can't be healthy for someone his age; does this kid have any decency at all? Hint of silver catches his attention a second long enough to take another look and identify the very key he gave away with such good intentions right around Jensen neck, dangling from a delicate silver necklace like a precious piece of jewelry. Confused as Jared is, his eyes flicker back up into Jensen's eyes, more than a handful of questions right on the tip of his tongue but he can't stop thinking about that if Jensen was a girl, the key would rest right in the spot her cleavage would start, so he barely manages to stutter a "go to sleep, Jen".

"Don't wanna," Jared gets back in response right along with a smooth travel from back over shoulder to his chest, eyes dropping back to the key in his home of freckled, smooth skin and forgets about boobs altogether because oh, why why _why_ does this image not need the addition of _anything_ in order to be breathtaking?

What had he done to give Jensen any idea this here was a good thing to do? What had triggered his brain into deciding "wow, hey, let's jump into the old man's bed and bad-touch him until he gets a heart attack"? What the fuck had gone wrong? Is this a joke? Is Dean about to jump in any second and they both laugh at him for getting all sweaty and nervous and-

Lips peck at his cheek.

Jared's blood evaporates while his lungs suddenly decide that they don't need air anymore.

He stares into what he knows is moss-y, poison-y green but of barely noticeable color in his bedroom's complete darkness. Skin stings where it was hit by pillow-softness and where Jensen breathes against, slow and hot but thin.

Jensen's palm is sweaty as it cups his cheek and turns Jared's head just a little more. Nothing more or less than "oh shit" runs through behind the adult's forehead when his lips are pressed against by another pair.

Nausea and hunger, heat and cold pool in his guts in millisecond-short episodes. Relief and grief press out a strange, unknown sound from him when Jensen pulls back.

He's floating. A black hole maybe?

Jensen's mouth returns and Jared catches himself in the act of being _happy_ about it, actually recognizes the feeling he'd imagined the twins' lips to feel like, just too sinful not to stare at one or two times per year when the light's just right and there's spit or coke or sugar icing or remains of some girl's lipstick or -gloss on them like a damn disco ball, an invitation to stare, a fucking _dare_.

There's a hungry sound and Jared for the life of his own mother can't tell if it came from Jensen or himself, the sensation of his own sweat against the shirt and Jensen's hand so disgusting and intense suddenly that he rips his eyes open (when did he close them in the first place?) and pushes himself up on his elbows. Unexpected, panicked rushes of air through his system allow him to huff a weak "Jensen, stop, wait", the view of the boy only fucking up his breathing pattern even more.

It's as if he has a tiny animal by his side, afraid, unsure of what to do, desperate. Jared's never seen any of the twins looking this young and vulnerable, wonders if anybody ever saw them like this and at the same time exactly knows they would never want anybody to. But here Jensen is, shy and stupid, trembling hand splayed wide over Jared's chest like he has to hold on to something or he will collapse, arms naked and lean, muscles tight and curving under universes of freckles, key like a trophy (more like a piece of evidence for Jared's stupidity, he thinks) around a neck Jared's seen covered in shameless hickeys more often than not but right now of course is plain and white like an empty notebook just _waiting_ to be scribbled into.

"We shouldn't do this." If it's honest, it shouldn't be this hard to say out loud, should it? And when had a "we" started to develop in this? Jared didn't _do_ anything… right?

A short moment long, he's sure he's finally gotten through the tiny part responsible for actual sense in Jensen's brain, a short moment of shared breath in too little space in between their faces that Jared hopes he will forget about what it tastes like soon. "Don't care." Just like that it's over and Jensen's whole body rushes into Jared, face and teeth first, hitting him where it hurts most, burns, aches; the key hits his chin and fingers brush through his beard with intention to feel the skin underneath.

Jared's breath splutters against ungiving mouth. He has to put all his strength into actually getting the kid off of him, basically throws him halfway across the bed and sits up straight, face numb and on fire and oh God, he will never get this taste out of his mind, will he? "What has gotten into you?! Stop it!"

It's basically visible how Jensen's expression crumbles into pieces, confused and without a concept of anything in his stupid underwear in Jared's bed where he isn't supposed to be flirty and sexy, no, bad kid. There's spit in the corner of his mouth which gapes like one pink, fat question mark, and Jared doesn't dare to wonder whose it is.

"I. I should. I should go."

Yes, _exactly_ ; and his legs should be used for jumping out of Jared's bed and stomping away in awkward, giant steps _only_ , not cause Jared to let his eyes drop down to them and slide right back up where they disappear in loose, white cotton. Little white cotton with a little tent in it. Oh. _God_.

Before his front door flies open and clicks shut, Jared's face is buried deep in his pillow again, eyes screwed shut and sweat cooling on his temples, heartbeat pumping so high up his throat he rethinks the whole idea of throwing up.

He tries hard to calm down, really. Even harder not to replay what just happened, to run the back of his hand over his lips to get rid of Jensen's taste, and hardest not to check what he thinks is building up in between his legs.

* * *

Surely, it's best not to bring it up ever again. Yes. That would be best.

To say that the first few minutes they share a room again the next day (fortunately, Dean's with him then) are uncomfortable would be a giant understatement. A painful tip-toe, a "please don't mention last night", a "what can I say that won't remind any of us about it?" comes to an end eventually. Someone makes a joke and the collective laughter helps. Jared's shoulders sink down. He intentionally ignores the visible outlines of the apartment key underneath Jensen's Henley shirt. If he hadn't noticed it all this time, there's no reason to start now, right?

* * *

A few days pass and it's just like it's always been. Jared's bed been empty but for that cute secretary last Thursday night and it's a miracle to him how he could ever be anything but grateful for that fact.

The thoughts are hard to control though, but he will manage. Will have to.

"Can't believe we made it till eighteen, huh, Jen?"

Oh, right, their birthday. Jared remembers.

"No," Jensen snickers. His voice is sweet and soft like it had never insisted on eating Jared alive face-first, like it isn't way different to let it spill sexual innuendos in said face now, more gut-wrenching and pulse-throbbing than ever before. If that's even possible.

Dean turns to him then, smiles wide and bright without a clue of how acid gnaws through Jared's body at the sight of these pretty features. "We'll do it like last time, alright, Uncle Jay? Celebrating together?"

Eyes fixed on his laptop screen but for that one quick glance into the older twin's innocent excitement, Jared nods, more to himself than anything, but Dean gets the message and continues babbling with his brother about when and what to shop for until tomorrow night then. He doesn't listen, knows what will be happening anyway: lots of candy and fast food, soda till his stomach hurls at all the sugar and all of them so awake they manage to stay up all night through endless rounds of Mario Cart and maybe one or two DVD's whose topics they will have very heated arguments about, probably.

Yes. He knows the drill. It'll be alright. One night of unhealthy food and childish play won't kill any of them.

* * *

"No."

Twelve cans, short and stout. One bottle, slim and clear.

"You're kidding, right?"

"As you can see, we're adulting."

Jared weighs the fake ID in his hand. He can't believe it. "And _John_ got you this?", he asks into his empty living room, listens for an answer in between the rumbling Dean produces with nearly exploding plastic bags in his kitchen, "… _What_ does your father work as, you said?"

"You don't want to know," Dean shoots like an order and accompanies it with a raised forefinger, shrugs his jacket off in a way his aftershave sways right up Jared's nostrils when he passes him. Plastic cups land next to the unholy liquids. "You want to _drink_."

Nose in crinkles, Jared makes a face at Dean first and at the bottle later. It's cheap headache-in-a-bottle. Should he head over to Mrs. Prensley to get an additional bucket now or later? He only has one and this looks like it will call for _all_ the measures.

"You're eighteen, not twenty one. You shouldn't drink," he tries to parent with played strictness and honest worries.

Dean braces his hands on the desk in front of him so that his biceps pop out even more, shoulders raised and back arched low, eyebrow like a charge high up his forehead, far enough to let even his young skin wrinkle. "And thou shalt also not covet thy neighbor's ass but here we are, Padaleski."

Now. He needs the bucket _now_. "This is not funny, Dean. This," he holds the ID like a shield in front of him, like he wants to ward off a demon with it, "is _illegal_."

"And since today, we are _not_ ," Dean beams.

Fake ID's aren't suitable to fight off evil forces. Okay. Damn. "I could call the police, you know."

"Better idea: punish us yourself. Maybe spank our asses raw. I don't know about Jen, but personally, I'm quite into that."

Breathe. Breathe, Padalecki. " _Or._ I could call the police."

"Powerplay's your thing then, huh? With handcuffs and all? Old man, you're surprisingly kinky."

Jared blinks, Dean mirrors it - even though Jared's pretty sure he _doesn't_ flutter his eyelashes like that. He puts the ID down, sighs when it hits the table. "Where's your brother?" he mutters. God forgive him for his weakness but there's just so much he can take.

Someone forgot to tell Dean that only puppies tilt their heads to the side in such an adorable manner. "Grabbing the heroin and hookers, why you ask? You miss your baby boy?"

A slow blink. Dean's smile is unbroken. Kocky. Little Bastard. "… I should be shocked. But somehow, I am not."

"Jesus, chill." Outside, the sun drowns somewhere in between the skyline. Dean's pendant catches one of its few last, supple orange rays. A phone buzzes and Jared stays at the table long enough to watch Dean produce his one from the back pocket of his way, way too tight jeans. His skilled fingers brush and fly over the slick screen, eyes dropped down where he holds it in front of his flat stomach, the hint of abs clearly visible through the thin material. Yes, long enough to catch himself remembering the heat radiating from Jensen's tummy at his back, naked and raw and- He flees to his couch, slumps down. A can of beer hits his lap before his ass does on the cushions.

"We will celebrate," Dean announces, that stupid forefinger in the air again, like he is the strict parent and Jared the unwilling child, "Like it or not."

 _Or not_ , Jared decides.

* * *

It takes three hours, one bag of Doritos and four embarrassing third placings for Jared to collect enough courage or to let go of so much dignity to finally pop open the stupid, hated, feared bottle of Russian origin. Actually it's a Swedish brand, but Dean aggressively insists on the fact that all vodka comes from Russia and is made from mountain spring water that bears catch their glowingly red salmon in. They knock back the first shot in unison and Dean accepts that okay, maybe, maybe there _could_ be exceptions from the rule. The second, and he's sure. The third, and he forgets about his initial idea.

This is stupid. This is immature. This is illegal. Jared's stupid _and_ immature _and_ could lose his license if this here goes public. Something along the lines of knowing that the twins do not have anyone to really talk to except for him helps soothe his fear. Yes, there are girls, plenty, but they never stay longer than a few weeks tops. And it's always "for fun", never goes deeper, as far as he can judge by the boys' fast exchange of girl after girl after girl without losing their toothpaste-ad-like smiles in between. They never mention boys, friends, buddies. Nothing. Thinking of his own jealousy for the boys' popularity, he can imagine that their peers are even less sympathetic for the panty-collecting twins.

Underneath their carelessly folded legs, thrown over his lap with their socked feet kicking him when they feel like he shows a too good performance with his Wii-remote or doesn't laugh loud enough at their dirty remarks they make at the currently playing movie, he feels strangely comfortable. Safe. At home. Dean's palm comes down on his shoulder or thigh a lot, but by far not as often as on his own, face flushed with three beers and four shots and laughter that doesn't seem to end tonight.

Jensen is more careful, but since he pulled at Jared's hair earlier and stupid, stupid Jared didn't protest (why on earth not, by the way?), he's catching up. Shoulder bump here, elbow there. It is quite obvious, actually. Jared shouldn't push back just as much. Really shouldn't. Shouldn't rejoice in the shocked squeals and grunts he tickles out of the twins with well-placed forwardness, gasps and hisses from anger about a nasty move with a blue or green shell. Shouldn't, but does. Sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth at something he doesn't remember a handful of moments later but can't shake off the hungry expression on Jensen's face at it. It pops free with a nervous laugh and another punch to his shoulder from Dean.

Silly. Stupid. Immature. Jess. Love. Job. To hell with it. Why not be happy for a change?

* * *

"'M just sayin'," Dean slurs, beer in his hand like he's done this for years, like he spends every evening like this, "Skirts. They are _important_."

"You mean the things _underneath_?" Jensen grins, vodka-fueled and so sexy it hurts.

Hurts so much Jared has to say something or he will pop something. And that something won't be a joint. "Or _if_ there is something underneath," he adds, fingers curled around a beer and a jean-covered calf that he hopes is Dean's and not Jensen's; can't tell by the tangled mess they produce though. He shouldn't laugh about his own "joke" despite being pinched in the cheek from his right, from Dean's side (thank God).

"Asking the real questions here, Uncle Jay," he bellows, downs a handful of peanuts with another gulp of cold blonde. His expression falters then, goes serious all of a sudden. "But. Man. _Panties_. Those are. I mean- If she's got cute panties on, I'm in, in like _any_ way of the meaning. Every-fucking-where."

"Best when you just push them aside," Jensen adds with a gesture Jared doesn't need to have explained to him, "Not even take 'em off. Just fuck her right then and there. Fuck. _That's_ the best."

"You guys are horrible," Jared laughs, a bit nervous, a bit embarrassed. This conversation started over Black Canary's superhero uniform and somehow ended in, well… this.

In the corner of his eyes, Jared sees it, yes, that one mouth-thing Dean does, that kind of makes him want to take off his hands from all calves in his lap altogether and lock himself in the bathroom and never come out again. "So," comes the groan from his right, "what do _you_ like, Jay?"

He smiles open-mouthed and silently into the nothing between coffee table and TV, tries to remember how not to make an absolute idiot of himself. Fails, of course.

"Like," he hears from his left, "what do you prefer, hm? Panties on, panties off? Standing up, lying down? Making her scream or tell her to be nice and quiet?"

 _Don't make your voices sound like that,_ he wants to say. "I uhm. I," he stutters instead, thinks, thinks fast, forgets that he shouldn't give them such information, that it will only end in nasty jokes at his expense, finally breaks, voice lower than he intends but he's just careful, not trying anything here, no, he _doesn't_ , "When you. Like. Pick her up. Her back to the wall, her legs around your waist. Like _that_."

Silence in the room, TV forgotten. Jared doesn't dare to look at either twin, rubs his thumb through the condensation on aluminum.

"Huh," Dean breathes eventually, "That _is_ hot."

" _Very_ ," Jensen adds. Jared wants to punch through something solid. With his head. "You can do that? Pick her up, I mean?" He doesn't spell the "old man" out loud but Jared hears it nevertheless, shudders with bold fingers dancing over his shoulder.

Laugh it off. "I uh- haha. Boys, I used to play basketball up into halfway through college. I'm not as frail as you believe me to be. I had arms like a freaking gorilla!"

"You never told us that!" Dean protests, openly disappointed.

A sip from his beer feels good, cools down. "Course not. You'd have wanted to see pictures or something."

"We _want_ to see pictures!"

" _Need_ to see pictures!"

Whenever you think you've finally collected enough self-assurance to not use your drink as an eternal anchor for your psychic stability…! "Haha, no, haha, really; y-you don't. I was a dork, I, uhm, the hairstyles back then, _ha_ , n-no…"

Another silence, but thicker than the last one. He stares at his knees with vodka in his head and blood where it shouldn't be, doesn't notice the deep stare and nod the twins exchange. Should have.

"Hey, Jen." It's soft, smooth, like something unimportant, passing. "Wasn't that, what, Michael or something? Wasn't he in the basketball club as well?"

Jensen's fingers tap where collar bone connects to shoulder somewhere underneath dark, pinstriped button-up, sweat, skin and shame. Jared's eyes start to swim.

"Michael?" the younger twin asks, light like a chirp, "What Michael?"

"Oh, you know which one." It's dark and painted with a smile, rubs at the raw edges inside of Jared he didn't know he even had. It draws blood. "The one whose cock you sucked in the locker room two months ago or something."

The bucket. Where. Is. That bucket.

Jensen laughs, bright like a bell. "Guess he was. Doesn't matter though, his dick was like. French fry sized. Ugh. Waste of time."

"Good thing he had that brother."

"Shit _yes_." It's a hiss, a fucking hiss, the spat air hitting where Jared's neck starts to dampen in a desperate attempt to keep his body from boiling like a kettle on a stove. Jensen's fingers dig into his shoulders in steady patterns and it should hurt by now. Fuck does he know why he barely notices it. "Fucked me so hard I couldn't take a dump for a week without bawling my eyes out; ha, _damn_."

Jared manages to stare at Jensen now somehow, hopes he doesn't look as absolutely out of his mind as he feels like. "… What?" He doesn't believe any of this. This is a sick joke. Right? They only play him like a fiddle, like they always do. Don't they?

"What _what_?" Jensen laughs, eyes wild and mouth pink, brushes his free hand down the back of his own neck, scratches it like no big deal, like it doesn't remind Jared of how there still aren't any hickeys, "You never picked up the soap in the showers, Jared?"

Jared blinks. Whatever happened to that "Uncle" in front of his name?

Dean's teeth shine in the flickering lights of the TV. "We actually always thought you'd at least, I dunno, fucked around a bit in college? Pledge week? Nothing? No?"

"You- I-" It's hard to get out actual words with their eyes plastered on him like that. Trapped, he is fucking trapped, one-way-road to fucking _hell_. "I always thought- You'd always ever talked about girls, so I. I thought you-"

"Thought we were as straight as an arrow?"

"We tell you a lot but don't expect us to tell you _everything_."

Jared's stomach twists at the image of Jensen's fingers dancing over the carefully covered key he knows sits there and laughs at him. "We all have our secrets. Don't we, Mr. Padalecki?"

Don't. Fucking. _Don't_. "Boys, you know you... You know you can talk to me about, a-about everything. I don't. I mean, I don't have a problem with that."

"You don't, huh? Oh, now that's just _sweet_ of you."

"Listen, Jay-" How could he _not_ listen with Dean suddenly and basically hanging from his ear, elbow on his until recently unused shoulder? "- Jen here and I talked about this a lot. About _you_ , that is."

With too-familiar lips so close to his face, Jared doesn't dare to even flinch, but senses Jensen leaning in to him as well from the other side. Cornered. He swallows and hopes he suffocates on his tongue.

"We always knew you were the shy type. Really. We respect that. We find that rather hot, to be honest."

"Very," Jensen adds. The rumble in his voice, identical with his brother's, could shatter Jared's bones.

"Yes, very hot. But there is a limit to everything." He'd never ever thought the boys actually could have started growing freaking _stubble_ with their skin always so flawless and endlessly smooth. But he'd also never thought he'd find out by Dean brushing their cheeks together, so… "Nobody. Not even you. Throws a Winchester out of their bed."

His lips become one in between his teeth, rolled tight like a cinnamon bun. "You told him," Jared says to nobody in particular.

Jensen answers him though. "Oh, I share _a lot_ with my brother, Jared."

"I don't, I-I never-"

"Of course you mean no harm, princess, and that is our fucking _problem_."

Wait. What?

Someone's heels dig into the outside of his thighs. "We didn't _really_ try at first, to be fair. But Jen just didn't stop talking about you."

" _Dee_." It's soft, uncertain. It doesn't match the pattern.

"What? It's true!"

No protest from Jared's left. He feels way more drunk than he actually is all of a sudden.

Dean leans in to him again. "We were real good boys for you, Uncle Jay. Real, real good boys. Gave you so many hints to finally swallow that bait. But no, you want to play _daddy_ for us. Guardian angel Padalecki."

"If you didn't notice," and that's Jen, so close to his other side that if Jared would cry, his tears would directly drop onto his tongue, "we do have a father already. What we want is…"

Hesitation creates a weird pause; Jared feels Dean's eyes leave him and travel to his brother's instead for a second.

"What we want is your _cock_."

"Your cock, drilling us into fucking _Narnia_ ," Dean adds.

There isn't enough vodka left in this bottle to get through this night unharmed.

"Okay, uhm." Jared tries to get up but they hold him in place. He forces a smile, clears his throat. "This stopped being funny five minutes ago. Okay? Stop. Seriously." Another try - which fails. "Boys. Stop it."

"Well, Mr. Padalecki-" Dean's never ever used his correct name on him before; what the fuck is even going on here? "we just turned legal, you know. There is no law in this beautiful country telling you to keep your pretty hands all by yourself anymore."

"You are drunk," he bites.

"Bitch _please_ , as if this here were our first fake ID's and six-packs."

"S-since when-"

"Never said that dad we have is a great one." It's dry, drier than it should be from Dean's mouth that never spits a bad word about John, not even when he limps and won't tell the reason, _again_.

"But we were good boys." Jensen's soft against him, lips grazing the shell of Jared's ear like a secret. "Good boys for you, Uncle Jared. We tried real hard. When you gave me that key, I- You know, I thought you… I thought it had worked. That you liked us back."

"You know I like you." Maybe it's not exactly wise to say that. Maybe he can blame it on the alcohol later. Maybe on the heavy scent of their shared aftershave all around him, like dust, like mist. "You're my boys, I look after you, I, I take care of you."

"But wouldn't it be way easier to look after us if we were stuck on your dick?"

"Don't." He means it. Somewhere. Probably.

Dean sighs, rolls his eyes, leans a bit back from him. Jared shouldn't miss his warmth instantly, should he? "You are making this hard in a way it doesn't have to be, dude."

"Why don't you just say 'yes'?" Jensen creates a gap between them as well and in an attempt not to fall with so much empty space around him, Jared clings to those calves again, yes, plural, even though the hand that holds his beer can barely lend a few fingertips. But he needs those. _Needs_. "Aren't we pretty enough? Hot enough? Don't you find us attractive, Jared?"

No possible answer could help him, neither truth nor lie. Even the silence they don't accept.

Dean gets impatient quickly. It's just not his style to work hard for something, not if he can find out an easier way to get what he wants. His sweaty palm finds Jared's cheek, cups it just the soft but persistent way Jensen had done it those few days ago. The sparks the touch sends down Jared's neck has him curl his toes in his socks and slippers. "Jay, listen, buddy. I don't bottom. Ever. Period. End of discussion. But for you, man. For _you_ , I'd do it."

What?

"What the fuck'r you talking about? I fuck you, like, _all the time_ ," one confused Jensen talks from where Jared can't see since his head is turned and held there.

Oh, he might also add: _Double-what?_

"That's different!" Dean barks, like he's annoyed that he has to repeat this to his brother yet again, "It doesn't count between twins. _Everybody knows that_. Jesus."

"It totally counts, Dee."

He can't believe this.

"Totally," Jared parrots very slowly due to the shock he just earned. No. This can't be. He knows he is staring like a reindeer in a spotlight, but, damn. This is disturbing, the idea alone. Disturbing on a level he's never thought he would ever really be a witness of. Things like this happened in, like, really bad soap operas. Or erotic literature, which is bad by nature, so… But. No. He frowns so hard it hurts but _has_ to. "Are you kidding me right now?"

Dean gives him a puzzled look. "No? I _really_ never bottom."

"No, I mean, do you fucking _sleep with your brother_ , Dean!?"

Jared's squinted at from both sides. Dean's eyes flicker back and forth between his brother and Jared before he decides to speak again. "Jay. It doesn't. _Count_. For God's sake."

Incest cures intoxication by alcohol, who knew? Jared forgets about teenage calves in jeans and uses his hand for something useful for once, as in pushing Dean's hand away to face the usually more serious twin. "Jensen, you tell me what is going on _or I swear to God_ you two'll be the nail to my coffin within the next minute!"

One could say the boy is unimpressed but, ha, Jared absolutely saw that one hesitating gasp for air at his sudden outbreak. Two years can build soldiers, kid. "If you haven't noticed yet… which you obviously haven't since we're having this ridiculous conversation… Jared, my brother and I are the hottest pieces of ass not only in this shitty excuse of a city but probably also the whole state. Or solar system. However. It's a bit like, you know, masturbation. We look alike one hundred percent. It's quite natural, actually. Feels like it, at least."

No. "You _are_ shitting me."

"I fucking _don't_ , man. What is your problem, seriously?"

Dean's mouth on his ear feels just like his brother's, presses down soft to whisper even softer. This is _torture_. They torture him. Jared's a torture victim. Does his insurance cover those? "That taste he left in your mouth, the one you couldn't get out of your head these past days? _My come_."

It's a bit like falling off a cliff. Jared has these dreams quite often, actually. Falling while someone stabs your head. Repeatedly. With a jackhammer.

"We actually argued about whether to share you separately or… well, together."

Jared's eyebrows crumble, jam into each other in between his eyes. "… Together together?" he breathes.

"Together together," Dean repeats, "If that's what you're into, that is."

Jared stares, can't really breathe. The idea sinks in, together with a few images his brain quickly and easily dishes out like it had waited for this moment. That damn traitor. Heat rushes into Jared's cheeks, up his neck; a new wave of sweats settles in his armpits, no, fucking no way. This shouldn't- But it is, and- Jared blinks, once, twice, exhales with a shudder. Oh God no.

Dean's frown vanishes. "Holy shit."

Why can Jared's lungs only alternate between not working at all or going crazy like a steam engine, for God's sake? (It could have something to do with what the twins put him through. Maybe.)

The older twin can barely keep his eyes from popping out of his skull while he speaks. "You _do_. You fucking _do_. Don't you? Oh God. Jen. _Jen_."

"You never noticed?"

Jared turns towards Jensen and hopes nobody sees the can of beer shake in his fingers. Or his dick stir in his jeans. He shakes his head and it's honest.

"Never even _considered_ it?" Dean asks from behind him, "I mean, we were subtle… but not _that_ subtle."

"Nev- I never- _Oh God_." The corner of his mouth twitches. Memories bubble up behind his eyes, those tiny, tiny moments he likes to stuff so deep into the back of his brain he hopes they'll never see the light of day ever again. Like how the first time the twins sprawled on his couch, he had to think of this one particular porn he used to watch for quite a long period of time when he had been about their age. Two pigtailed blonde beauties, about to be spanked and what-not by their babysitter, eyes wide and innocent, limbs careless and soft. Or that one Sunday morning he woke up in his bed and the boys were entwined so close next to him, in t-shirt and boxers or boxers and socks, slowly broadening chests rising and falling in unison, arms and hands all over each other without even noticing it in their sleep.

He never had given it a second thought. Couldn't. The pigtail girls had been consensual adults, after all, and these were boys, his little boys, clumsy and careless and-

Oh God. They _are_ consensual adults now.

"We can't- I- _Please_ , really, I- We, w-we'll go to hell, boys. _Please_." As if he was a magnet, the twins are drawn in by him, their returning heats so close to his body resembling flames licking at his skin. By now, he doesn't care if he's shaking. No use if his fear lies heavy in the air like bonfire smoke anyway.

The jackhammer turns up another notch. Highest setting ahead, ready for the crash.

"Oh, they're _waiting_ for us down there, Jay; seats're booked 'n all."

"Won't hurt to get our birthday kisses then, huh, Dee?"

"Never ever, my dear brother."

They watch him and smile, close in on each other right in front of his face - until their smiles mold into one, shared, sweet, extremely disturbing and extremely hot _kiss_.

Jared swears he'll fill that damn bucket. One way or an-fucking- _other_.

It's gentle, slow how they move, turn their heads, eyes closed in obvious bliss, like they do this all the fucking time, and, oh, they probably _do_ , Jared remembers and bites back a whimper. Not quick enough though, so Jensen pulls back and laughs out loud before his mouth is reclaimed as possessive as his twin always is with him, has been since Jared had moved in and saw them play outside the building on the stairs, knees scraped open and a single skateboard under one single arm, God knows whose it was. Kids, _boys_ , had stared him down like it was a test, like there was a question in the air for them to solve. Now, Jared knows that hadn't only been his imagination.

From this up close he can watch their tongues move on the inside of their cheeks. Suddenly, Jensen's taste from that night is back on his tongue, bright as day, like he has been sucked on this whole time. The can drops from his lap with a sorry sound, sprays the floor and carpet but Jared's biggest worry right now is where to put his hand _instead_.

With a fine line of spit between their lips like a souvenir, the twins part smiling like they never stopped doing it, eyes certainly wetter and smoother like before. _Horny_ , Jared's dick identifies.

"Which one first, hm, Jay?" Dean speaks slowly as if it would help Jared in any possible way.

He can't speak. Hell, can't even _think_. They're one person, aren't they? What is there to choose, exactly?

"Jared." It's soft, like a sigh, like the sigh Jared would have preferred to make instead of that moan when Jensen's lips meet his own. With hands placed securely on his chest, he's pressed even further back into the cushions. When Jared's hands come up to grab both Jensen's back and neck, his eyes have slipped shut already. Jensen's shudder vibrates under his palms, around his lips, tongue, teeth; Dean's hand on the inside of his right thigh sucks some more blood down to where Jared's suddenly very needy to be touched.

Just as sober as he had been from the turn of events at first, he's getting drunk on it now. Jared still hasn't really wrapped his mind around what's going on, just has a faint idea that this here is fucking amazing. More memories come rushing back, more twin-porn than he'd like to admit he's seen and adored in his life; how had he not thought about this possibility ( _the possibilities!_ ) earlier? Well, for one, he'd be in jail right now if he had, or moved to another town. Or state. Or continent.

Another hand sneaks through a thin gap their bodies left and cups his cheek. "Hey, don't hog him," Jensen's scolded and makes a pitiful sound when Jared's face is turned away from him, right into Dean's mouth, welcomed with a lot of teeth and even more spit. One of Jared's hands stays around the back of Jensen's neck, holds him where the boy presses down into the nape of Jared's neck and licks at the film of sweat he put there with his skills and taste and scent, spills another, now pleased sound that goes straight into Jared's dick.

The other hand he generously gifts to Dean, pushes his fingers up the back of his neck as well, up into the short stubbles of hair until he can get a grip of the longer strands, always so wildly modeled into place. His styling skills improved over the years but the amount of product he uses is still a bit too much. Sticky fingers are a good price for a growl stumbling right down his throat though, Jared decides. A yank earns him another sound and a bite to his lip, a fist curled into his own hair. He'd chuckle if he could, wonders if Dean ever let someone question his dominance during sex before (at least without crushing said person's face later on), just grips them both tighter when Jensen starts nibbling on the thin skin covering the spot where his pulse ticks.

Dean breaks the kiss with a lot of force due to Jared's hand holding him in place, but they're forehead to forehead now and Dean stares at him, silly and drooling a little before licking it away. Jared fears he doesn't look any different. The hand on Jared's thigh suddenly becomes the hand on Jared's crotch and he can't help but half-grunt and half-gasp at the firm hold.

"I wanna suck on this," he's informed without the hint of a smile or the decency of letting Jared have a say in this. It doesn't actually help that Jensen immediately takes his turn in shoving his tongue down Jared's throat, as long as his hips rolling up into the damp heat of Dean's palm isn't considered as "help". They climb his lap in unison, careful with the knees, until they straddle one thigh each. Heat bleeds from where they sit on him, their sweat wets his fingertips on their skin. Jared's never felt older or more like a parent than now with two halfway grown-ups in his lap and their tiny necks and heads in his giant hands and if Dean hadn't been right with the hell-ride before, he absolutely is now thanks to this comparison.

Dean is on and somewhat in his ear again, bites down whenever Jared's fingers grip his hair tighter, whispers and groans while Jensen's palms rub wherever they can reach all across Jared's chest, brush his nipples but don't stay; at least not long. "We talked about this so much, Jay; Jen and me. Fantasized about how it would be, how you'd react. What you'd do to us, fuck, what you'd let us do to you. And your cock. Oh man, your cock. I bet it's big. It is, isn't it? Just like the rest of you, Jay, huh? You never answered, no matter how we asked. I can fucking feel it against my hand, though… fuck. Damn tease, Padaleski."

Jared is very, very thankful for Jensen pulling back and letting him catch his breath. "You're gonna let us, right? Gonna let us blow your pretty dick, Uncle Jared?" He changes his mind rather quickly.

"You're gonna kill me," Jared pants, groans at teeth and tongues teasing at his neck from all possible angles, noses bumping into his jaw and cheekbones. Even like this, their laughter humiliates him.

"Death by bj. You'd hit the papers, old man."

"Don't you dare pop your clog until we're through with you!"

Suddenly, they're gone. Suddenly, they're kneeling in between his legs. The view alone is enough to pass out, the alcohol heightening Jared's senses in combination with their hands roaming over where they sat only a few moments ago keeps him by the edge as close as humanely possible. "Boys," he pleads without knowing for what exactly, his hands gripping two wrists he doesn't care are whose, just needs something to hold on or he will double over and seal the deal.

"Shhh, it's alright." No, nothing's exactly "right", and Jensen should know that with his eyes glued to where his brother works open Jared's pants with a pace and solemnity as if he was unwrapping a present. "Just let us see."

Jared makes an uneasy sound, something embarrassingly close to a whine. He knows what he has up his sleeves, or, well, his pants, but he doesn't loathe the attention; never has, never will.

A skilled pull on his underwear and then the base of his dick leave Jared trembling in Dean's palm. Which is trembling itself.

Nobody speaks.

Jared cringes. The naked flesh jolts under the sudden rush of cool air, jumps lazily in Dean's hand that looks way smaller than usual. In defense for him, he doesn't usually hold something the girth of about two-and-then-some inches.

"Jesus Christ." Dean has problems closing his mouth but in contrast to his usual behavior, there isn't a steady flow of words coming out of it. Jared could get used to that, actually.

"Jared, w-we, uhm, we-" Another set of fingers curls around his dick, right over where Dean's end and the addressed man has troubles keeping his eyes open and ears working. "If we told you we're clean, we really are, really; we never do anything without condoms, seriously. If we- Could we, I mean, you, would it be okay to. I mean. Without one…?"

It's adorable. It shouldn't _be_ this adorable. It shouldn't amuse him this much to see poor Jensen completely in awe and practically begging for something. He's almost crying, for God's sake. But Jared's a responsible man. He won't budge, not with this. "Jen, seriously, I-"

"Please!" Really responsible.

"Please, Jay, seriously, we've got nothing; I, uh, I-I could run over real quick and get the tests, we got them done last week! I swear to God-" Really res-

"Please, I need to taste you, _please_!" Real-

Whatever it is - the endless repetition of that word they barely ever use even if they should, the sudden gleam radiating from their lit faces and eyes so blank with want, the rumble in Dean's and the indication of desperation in Jensen's voice -, whatever the fuck it is that has Jared place his hand on the back of Jensen's skull and push him face-first onto his cock… he thinks it may be here to stay.

Dean hisses curses with his eyes fixed where Jared's dick disappears in his brother's mouth and Jared wishes he had any words left inside of him at all. They probably ate them all up earlier, it's his only excuse; those cocky little bastards that make his head spin and his balls throb and oh God, why on Earth did he let this happen when he knew how wonderful Jensen's mouth feels?

Only one quick shove over his tongue and the top of his mouth, scrapes past teeth and doesn't even hit the back before Jensen pulls back, Jared's hand on his head without any pressure at all. Years of experience taught him not to force anybody's face on what some titled "baseball bat" or "something you'd need a license for". "Oh God," Jensen mumbles, more like to himself than anything else, eyes locked where his mouth had been just a second ago like it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

No, Jared doesn't like the attention, but something in this picture tickles the right nerves. "This what you wanted?" Obviously the nerves connecting his brain to his tongue. Amazing.

"Yes," Jensen breathes, laps at the head once, tongue broad and flat, before his eyes dart up to meet Jared's. "Dreamed of doing this forever, Jared." Plump lips close around his cock's head once more, making Jared groan and Jensen hum around what he can get into his mouth.

"He really did," Dean assures, still somewhat hesitant with this situation, watches his brother bob his head back and forth in slow drags. Through the ringing in his ears, it's hard for Jared to really listen to him. "Almost got me jealous. Almost! Damn, Padalecki. This isn't fair. _Shit_." The older twin ducks his head and presses his lips into a sucking kiss where Jensen's mouth doesn't reach. "The things you do to us, seriously. It's not fair."

Jared would love to argue about fairness right now, yes, he would, but when your dick is being taken care of by two identically amazing and horribly skilled mouths, there's just so much you can do to not go insane - and talking is not on that list. He reaches for their wrists again, the ones not connected to the hands squeezing the base of his dick, curls his toes at the smooth skin he finds there and one very clever move of Jensen's tongue on the underside of his dick where foreskin meets glans.

They switch and Dean, stupid, proud and eager Dean, gobbles down more than he can take of course, leaving him choking and Jared instinctively pushing his hips out at the sensation. Poor Dean chokes even more and Jensen laughs while Jared spills a handful of honest "sorry"'s down to them. "Don't worry, he's just stupid," Jensen says before shoving his brother aside and swallowing Jared's cock down himself.

The older twin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to catch his breath. "I take it back," he huffs. Jared's and Dean's eyes lock and the boy furrows his eyebrows. "I can't, okay? This will not go up my ass, ever!"

"So you're gonna chicken out, Winchester?" It's out his mouth before Jared can think about it.

Dean's mouth just stopped working. His brother's as well. Two pairs of green stare up at him, hands still holding on to his dick like it will save their lives.

"You're gonna fuck us?" Jensen breathes.

Oh shit. "I uhm, ha, uh…" Okay, think, _think_ , Padalecki. Will you? Should you? Could you? Urgh, too many questions. Mouth, you're up to yourself… "I-I d-didn't do anal in ages, I-I dunno if-" Oh. _Wait_. Jared squints at them. "Was. Was that. Was that a bluff? A fucking _bluff_ , Dean?"

"Maybe," Dean spits breathlessly, his pendant shifting on his chest with every pitiful heaving.

"Please do it," Jensen whispers.

Think. Breathe. Think harder. Oh God. "B-bareback?" Jared tries to clear his throat but there is nothing to clear it from. His voice apparently _is_ fucked up like this.

The twins slowly nod in unison.

"Do you-" He tries again for the sake of his throat, but no, nothing makes the crackling in his voice disappear. "Do you know what a safeword is?"

Dean finds his usual masquerade again, picks it right up from where he dropped it somewhere between Jared's thighs. Smug bastard one point one. "What, big boy? Think you can't handle us?"

"No," he immediately replies, much to Dean's surprise, voice low and commanding because, uh, _yes_ , he thinks he can play just as dirty as those two, thank you very much. "Think _you'll_ need one." It's meant for both twins. Jared knows Jensen knows thanks to the boy's Adam's apple jumping in his throat once and hard. Especially for Dean, Jared cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows. "In case you need to chicken your sorry ass out of it."

It's almost visible in the dim light how Dean's cheeks start to glow all over. "Make me, old man," he dares and squeezes his fist around Jared's cock harder.

Two can play that game. Jared contracts the right abdominal muscles and his cock jumps up towards his stomach regardless of the two hands around it. It's all technique, baby. He earns two gasps. Good. "If you insist."

"Christo," Jensen splutters.

"Your safeword?" Jared asks.

"Yeah," Jensen nods, gives one lazy tug at Jared's dick that has the man's eyes flutter shut on zero point something seconds. When he opens them again, the twins smile at him. It's different from before. More sincere, somehow. Jared rubs his thumbs over their wrists.

"I don't want to take advantage of you," he suddenly confesses, God knows why now.

"You're not," Dean assures, no mocking tone to be found anywhere in his voice.

"Other way around's more like it, I guess," Jensen tries and smiles a little broken, eyes switching from Jared's eyes down to his cock and back. Jared's fingers dance over his wrist and he chuckles nervously, drops his head and then his jaw to suck Jared's dick back into his mouth.

"You're such a girl," Dean snarls in between his teeth and gives his brother a nasty look Jared doesn't see with his eyes rolling into the back of his skull. Nevertheless, he squeezes Dean's wrist as well, notices shy fingers curling around his own one in return. Huh. Who's the girl now?

They take even turns at licking and kissing what's not covered by the other one's lips and throat. Jared holds their wrists tight, needs the contact somehow, needs to know they're alright. It's fucked up, but that moment between the three of them just now… They're still his boys, aren't they? Behind the dirty grins and even dirtier words, they're still just kids who want to prove their strength, to show how tough and unbreakable they are. Dean miserable fails at deepthroating him while Jensen does great but looks so vulnerable it physically hurts. But Dean tries again and again anyway, his gagging noises filling the room, while Jensen kisses both Jared's shaft and his brother's lips around it, comforting him, encouraging him. Suddenly, Jared wants nothing more than to have their stupid smiles back.

"You two are insane," he tries, his stomach jiggling with a deep chuckle, head lolling to the side.

Both pairs of green immediately shoot up to him. Dean keeps rolling his tongue over the tip while he hollows his cheeks; Jensen speaks, not caring about the pretty thread of spit from Jared's cock to his bottom lip he destroys like this. "Insanely pretty, I hope?"

"Yeah," Jared smiles, jaw stuttering with Dean's effort to swallow his dick down past one third of its length, "You two look amazing like that."

Dean drops his dick with a wave of laughter and Jensen picks it up in sympathy. "Amazingly beautiful cocksuckers, huh? Kinda want that printed on a shirt." He snorts another laugh, looks down at his brother, rolls his bottom lip in between his teeth and eyes Jared once more. "Want us to take off our clothes?"

He hopes his nod doesn't look too desperate.

Dean's smile could break hearts. Did, actually. Does. "Alright," he groans.

They have to let go of his dick completely and Jared doesn't want to leave it alone with cooling spit all over it, so he wraps his own palm around it, lays back and simply watches. The shirts are gone quickly. He's seen the twins like this before, freckles covering their round shoulders, pecs and arms fleshy and firm, nipples dusky and poking against empty air at times. But never like this, in this context. Never saw the beauty in their tight skin before, not like this, not with the intention to touch or maybe kiss or, okay, very surely _grab_ it. They watch him watching them with his hand on his dick, discovering completely new people in these boys he always thought were just that. His boys.

"Hey." Dean tips his forefinger under Jensen's chin and kisses him tenderly. It's a bit of an awkward angle, still between Jared's thighs on their knees, so Dean has to lean over. Their necklaces dangle into each other, silver and gold in a strange dance against the light of the apparently never-ending movie in the background. Jensen hums when Dean lets go of him, kisses down his cheek and neck. Through chin and collar bone, Dean looks up to Jared, brushes his finger over the key resting on his brother's chest. "You broke his heart when you kicked him out, man." It's quiet but Jared knows an accusation when he hears one.

"Don't," Jensen mutters into his brother's hair and turns his head away from Jared.

"You give him this and then you tell him to leave?"

"Boys, I- I never wanted to hurt anyone. The key, I… It was meant for both of you to use. Dean, you would've lost it in five minutes, so… I gave it to you, Jen, because I trusted you."

There is no answer. Jensen doesn't turn his head.

"… You gotta make it up to him, Jay." It's beyond a simple innuendo. It's a thread, unspoken, but still bright as day.

"Alright," Jared breathes, tugs on his cock absently to keep it interested. He softens and lowers his voice some more before he speaks again. "What do you want me to do, Jensen?"

Jensen turns to face him then, eyes tight while his lips are swollen from all the sucking and kissing. His nose brushes through Dean's hair. "You're gonna fuck me first."

Okay. The tugging isn't needed as much anymore.

"First and last."

"Last?" Jared repeats.

"You're gonna come inside me," Jensen explains as slowly as he grips the buckle of his belt and loosens it, eyes glued to Jared's. It doesn't sound like it at first but when Jared has stopped shivering under his goose bumps, he's quite sure this was another threat.

Christo. Christo. Remember it. _Christo_.

Dean smirks into his brother's shoulder and follows suit with unbuckling his jeans. They bother to get up on their feet to shove them down, revealing matching boxer briefs that cling to their identical hips like a second skin. This, Jared has seen as well. Minus the outlines of perfectly rock-hard cocks. Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

"Sorry 'bout the lack of boobs, Jay." Dean pats down his chest and shrugs his shoulders.

Jared frowns up at Dean. "And that is a problem because…?"

The boys both return the face. "'Cause all you've ever fucked had those?"

Huh. Good thing he kept his mouth so firmly shut up until today. Otherwise Jared wouldn't get the pleasure of telling them this while stroking his cock in front of them. Would have been only half the fun. "Who says that?" he grins.

Twin-jaws drop yet again.

"No," Dean protests like there is any use in that.

Jared is the one laughing now and catches them grabbing themselves over their underwear when he faces them again. "Don't expect me to tell you _everything_ ," he parrots, lips curled in amusement. Dark, dark amusement.

"Oh, you son of a bitch!"

He laughs again, earned this insult, earned it hard. They jump back on his thighs, their necklaces and lips hitting his face, too many fingers getting rid of too many buttons at once. There's one hand on his dick but nevertheless Jared can't get rid of the insecurity, pushes the one kissing him away, looks for their faces and maybe a little bit of mercy. "I, uhm. I'm not as fit as I used to be, you know. You might wanna- Might wanna leave this on, boys." His hands get slapped at for trying to re-button his shirt.

"Stop that stupid talk, dude."

"We know you."

"You look awesome for a fifty-year-old."

"HEY, I'm forty-one!"

"Oops, what did _I_ say?"

"Whatever. We wouldn't be here if we didn't think you're hot."

"Which you are, Jay."

"Very."

Jared pouts up to them. Silly boys with their perfect dicks poking everywhere in his chubby, old body. As if. "I hate you two. So. Much."

"Ooooh, we hate you too, Uncle Jay!" Dean sing-songs and pinches Jared's bearded cheek. Which Jared hates, hates with a passion. He decides there shall be revenge. Now. The sound of his flat palm against one globe of Dean's ass echoes through his tiny apartment like the snap of a whip, along with a startled yelp.

"What the FUCK, Jay?!"

Another one - another scream. Watching Dean's face turn red and white in quick intervals shouldn't be this fun, his gaping mouth and horrified expression not this arousing and his dick definitely not this soaking through his briefs. Another, and his wrist is gripped so hard Dean's knuckles turn white.

"STOP. IT." He's panting the words. Through his clenched teeth. Still cute.

"You said you're into that earlier," Jared laughs, grips Dean's wrist in return like it was done to him some minutes ago.

"Wow. What conversations have you two been having?"

"NONE. NEVER SAID ANY OF TH-"

Jared's free hand lands another hit, now to the other cheek, and Dean almost bites though his bottom lip.

"I thought you knew what a safeword is for?"

Dean glares at him, nostrils wide, cheeks maybe even redder than his bottom ones underneath stretchy cotton. "I- I _do_ know that," he shushes quietly and then blushes some more.

Oh. Oh? _Ooooh_.

Jensen can feel the throb the idea gives Jared's dick first hand. Literally. The evil kid just smirks at his brother's bothered face and wraps his arm around his waist. They're close enough to let their hips bump into each other. He pecks a kiss to Dean's cheek. "Told you he'd do it if you asked."

"Shut up."

"What was that?"

"NOTHING. You shut yo' face and undress, grandpa, or you can suck yo' damn monster-dick yourself!" Yes. Yes, Jared absolutely can get used to this. Or their clumsy hands all over him… Not exactly the part where they eat up every new patch of bare skin they unleash with their eyes, but uh, the hands-all-over-part he enjoys.

Jared has to shift awkwardly and feels much younger again all of a sudden with Jensen pulling his pants and boxers down his thighs. "Uhm, I didn't- I didn't shave or anything, I could quickly-"

"Don't you dare go anywhere now," Dean huffs against his cheek and bites it before he kisses Jared again, shoves his fingers down and over his once so glorious chest. Now, it's just… hairy. And, well, _broad_ , at least. He splays his fingers over the waistband of Dean's underwear and thumbs at the elastic, tests the give of Dean's hipbone there. Sharp like a knife, God; did he feel like that as well when he was younger?

Firm hands travel up his thighs, hips, belly. Jared cringes under the touches. They're so perfect, both of them, lean and young and handsome. And still, they want him to be with them like this. Maybe this is a joke, never was more or less than that. Maybe just a dream, a very weird but also very amazing dream he'll wake up from with a wet patch in his pajamas and a lot of shame to scrub off his body. Jensen climbs up from where he dropped Jared's pants, softly nudges Dean aside to claim Jared's mouth instead. A use for Jared's free hand at last; another hip to reach for, stroke over. There's a tremble against his chest and a hum inside of his mouth that isn't his own.

Snap of elastic, another tremble, almost a jerk, and then the sound of skin on skin. Jared breaks the kiss to look down their bodies and finds a brightly flushed cockhead peeking out of a foreign fist. Dean pumps and Jensen almost collapses onto Jared who questions his life choices and sexuality and everything right about now, kisses where Jensen tries to gasp for air and holds his hip steady for Dean to work him over properly.

Amazing how Dean can still manage a smirk with the majority of his lips between his teeth, but oh well, isn't this the most appealing situation Jared's seen it appear in. But Jared has drawn blood on something different, a different face, a different Dean. Not stopping the kiss, his fingers slip into Dean's briefs soft enough to make the boy tremble and pull his cock out with the first of probably many strokes, perfect enough to have him drop his smile and let these pretty eyes flutter shut behind thick lashes. No, they're not as hung as him, not as wide or anything, but oh-so pretty, flawless, really. Cut, glowing skin, one hard and straight line from base to tip. The last years, maybe around a decade and a half, Jared's only been with women. There just never was the opportunity or desire. It didn't quite fit his lifestyle; Padalecki, the monogamous apple pie life lawyer. But now, with Jess gone, his job gone - hell, even if those things _were_ present right now… this dick in his hand feels so right it shouldn't be real. The way the silky skin slides up and down together with his fist, the slightly slick sound when his fingers reach the shiny tip, the bucking of Dean's hips when he brushes his thumb over it, just to tease… Like he already thought, there are life choices to be re-discussed.

With a subtle nudge against Dean's fingers around his brother's cock, Jared takes over here as well, sighs with the feeling of symmetry and completeness it gives him to stroke both twins in tandem. They really are identical all over, even down here. He kisses both blissed faces that lean in to him, breach themselves with hands and shoulders on him and the couch, push into his fists and stutter their breaths against his skin, into his hair. They smell so good it makes his mouth water, not only the perfectly musky aftershave on their soft necks but also the salty idea he gets from in between their thighs. When he licks the corner of his own mouth to get rid of some spit someone left there there, he does the same for Jensen in one go. It's hard to take a break for a few syllables, but this is important. "Wanna blow you." He hasn't done this in ages, _ages_ , really. Feels like a different lifetime. But he wants. Now.

The twins haven't really processed what he's doing by the time he's already pushed their legs off him and slid halfway down the couch, barely resting on it with his back. When his face takes place in between their flushed cocks, maybe looking really really stupid and not too sexy (and oh-so old, goddammit), they get the hint and smile down at him. Maybe not a smile, more like a smirk; definitely a smirk from Dean who instantly pushes his cock into the corner of Jared's mouth. "So demanding all of a sudden, Padaleski. Should we be scared?"

Jared doesn't smirk back, just pushes his hand past Dean's balls and gives them a good, mean tug. One kiss to the now a little bit wetter head of his cock is the apology for Dean's giving knees. "I dunno. Should you?"

He knows he won't get away with this, so his throat is relaxed even before Dean pushes his cock past his lips. Before he gets a real taste of anything, Jared's gagging with pubes up his nose. He tugs at Dean's sac again, earns a groan and a thrust, calms his heaving stomach and slowly picks up where his hand was left with Jensen's dick on his other side. It's amazing how much this here is like riding a bike; you never forget how it's done once you figured it out. He's not in training at all (who chokes on pussy? exactly.) but remembers the right technique quickly, glances up through some tears Dean fucks out of his gag reflex like the asshole he is and meets eyes that are on fire, gleaming down at him like he can't decide on whether to punch or kiss Jared.

"Who's hogging now, jerk? _Hey_!" Jensen's dick probes at Jared's cheek and Dean only pulls free because he cannot deny his brother anything, Jared's very sure. Without bothering for anything, Jared switches where his mouth and hand go. Jensen isn't as pushy as his twin, thank God; it's rather shy how he shoves his hips out for Jared to get better access. Just like Dean, he almost falls over due to the sensations of Jared's rough fingers stroking past his balls, taint. Here, he thinks, he should go at it differently, not as rough. Jensen's always been the delicate one of them. Green eyes go wide when Jared rubs up his crack and then solely concentrates on the wrinkled little entrance Jared's been specifically asked to take care of later. Soon. Probably very soon. Oh God.

He rubs down harder, the pad of his thumb disappearing in between soft, clothed flesh; licks at the underside of Jensen's glans like a kitten. Watching Jensen always is spectacular, for example when he's lost in a book or his guitar. It's surreal to add "when he's getting his cock sucked and his ass felt up" but Jared is positive that he'll manage somehow.

Jensen wouldn't hurt him or make him uncomfortable, so Jared takes the initiative to swallow his cock deeper into his mouth. A roll of his tongue leaves him with the heavy taste of precome, floods him with the memory of that night and how Dean had informed him what that unshakeable aroma had been. It seems so far away already, they're so much further gone. Jensen grunts and braids his fingers into Jared's hair when he succeeds in taking him into his throat up to the base. The boy shakes against his lips and Jared just listens, listens to the obscenely wet noises his hand around Dean's spit-drained dick produces, both their heavy breathing and occasional whimper. Fuck pigtailed girls. This here, this, on the couch with the most adorable stubble-haired brats ever, having them melt underneath his hands and inside of his mouth, this is the best that could have happened to him.

A needy sound from his left and the push of cotton against his fingers have Jared pause in his movements. The briefs get shoved down further and he gets it; alright, okay, don't freak out, it's just the smoothest ass you've ever laid your eyes on, you can do this without coming untouched like a teenager. You're over this. Long over this. Jared lets his fingers return and oh, _oh fuck_ ; his dick fucking _jumps_ at the sensation he earns. How in the world has he ever not thought about getting his fingers here?

"Like it?" Jensen huffs down to him.

"Jen's idea," Dean smirks, "Figured you're used to smooth, pretty pussies, so. Yeah. Got it nice and charming, just for you, Jay. Hurt like a bitch though. Better appreciate it!"

"Oh God," Jared mutters against Jensen's cock, runs his fingers up and down his one hundred percent hairless butt, "I _love_ it!" He can't believe how lucky he is. They really planned this through, first the STD-tests and now this. Crazy to think how they can barely sit in one place for five minutes straight but had the patience to put all these details together for him, thought of all these little things Jared could enjoy or dislike, just to make it perfect, to make it work, to become irresistible, just for him. He groans with his dick leaking onto his stomach, pulls down Dean's briefs himself, just far enough for him to push his other set of fingers where he knows waits the exact same bliss his left one experiences already. Dean tenses, grabs his own cock that Jared had to abandon to be able to do this here instead. He licks each tip in turns, kisses and sucks like they're lollipops, rubs, presses his fingers where it's bleeding heat and where skin begins to dampen under sweat, practically inviting him in.

All of a sudden, Jensen is shifting his weight and Jared thinks he's gonna fall off the couch, grabs him by the thigh - but all that falls is the boy's mouth right onto his dick. "Gotta hold me, or I'll fall," he moans, straddles Jared's face to give him more to hold on - but oh, dear lord. No. Freaking way.

Jared's tongue sweeps out and right over what's presented to him so carelessly, making Jensen's whole body jump on top of him, holds him down with his hand spread flat over his adorable lower back, right where these two charming dimples form with his back arched like this, and laps, laps at him as if he was a dog, a starved one. Gender never mattered to him when it came to this; eating pussy or ass, he never cared. He loves the tremble he earns, the heat, the softness of the tissue here and the give of the muscle underneath it, contracting and going lax in uncontrolled pulsings, nibbles, licks broad and then stiffer, changes so quickly Jensen almost suffocates from holding his breath. "G-God, J-Jared; w-w- for God's sake, f- _fuck_ -" Even if the sentences had had a meaning, they couldn't have been sweeter than these soft curses right against his dick; this tongue collecting thick pearls of precome from his by now almost purple tip perfect like it is, without the ability to form proper pronunciation.

Again, angrily flushed flesh pokes at his already busy mouth and Jared shouldn't be this obedient when it comes to Dean, he knows, it will end badly, but he can't help but just lick both of them. Dean is pressing so close to Jensen's hole that it's no problem - but the view kind of is distracting. "Bedroom," Jared finally rasps, lets his head drop back into the cushions, swats Dean's dick away that magically follows his mouth, throws him a nasty look, " _Now_. Or I'll break my back."

Getting Jensen off him is an act by itself, but once Jared is standing on his own two feet after what feels like an eternity, he suddenly notices how drunk he still is, sways and has to rub his eyes hard in order to being able to look straight ahead. He's hugged and gets his dick grabbed from behind, twice, kisses peppering down his shoulder blades, Dean getting up on his toes to maybe reach high enough for a kiss. Jared's generous and bows down a bit to give what is asked for, shudders with the firm rhythm on his dick one of them decided to put him through. "God, boys; bedroom, _bed-room_." He says "boys" but also means himself, toys with the idea to just stay here, but couch and rug aren't exactly what his doctor would want for his knees and back to be placed on, so he tries to be reasonable.

Fortunately, the twins obey, kiss and grab and chuckle in a weird mess of limbs and bare skin that moves across the flat. Once they're in front of the bed, they push past him and land right on it, faces lit with laughter and excitement, Jensen on his back and Dean right in top of him, perfect abs stacked on perfect abs. They're completely naked like Jared now, obviously lost their briefs somewhere on the way. Jared wants to cry when they spread their legs wide like frogs, Dean's knees digging hard into the mattress to hold Jensen's pushed back and open. This is blatant porn and nobody can tell Jared otherwise, one ass right above the other, presented like a treat, a fucking buffet for him to dig in, their cocks aligned perfectly where he can't see but how their snug balls and mirrored taints indicate. He has the glorious idea to turn on the tiny lamp that survived a heavy knock-over by some twin's foot once, returns behind them and dies all over.

Okay. Fuck his doctor. His insurance will have to take care of this, because everything but getting on his knees now is taking place in another, abnormal, illogical dimension. Thanking God for the idea to place a rug here, Jared goes down, barely tugs at his own cock by now because he doesn't want to get too excited yet; at his age, one orgasm per play is the limit, even though it can be prolonged pretty well. "God… Boys…" He sounds silly and wished they didn't crane their necks to watch him run his hands over their bubble butts, white (more pink than white on Dean, to be honest) and smooth and peppered with freckles here and there, perfect, just for him, only for him… His awestruck hum drums deeply through all three bodies when he buries his face in between Dean's cheeks, sucks a wet kiss where wrinkled skin contracts under the sudden attention, laps in short, jabbed moves that draw a whimper from where he can't see. Fuck.

One palm covers one whole cheek easily, so he can split his hands up between the twins again, rubs where Jensen is still wet with spit (his own spit that he put there with his own tongue, oh God) and pulls Dean open even further with his thumb digging in close to his hole. It gapes the tiniest bit like this, perfect to drive his tongue in to flick at the initial ring of muscle that instantly flutters around him, along with Dean's voice. He drops his head low enough to reach Jensen's hole instead now, presses his thumb eagerly down on Dean's rim but doesn't breach it yet, just pushes down on it and plays with the give. Jensen's lower body is angled differently than Dean's due to the position; tilted upwards, it's way easier to shove his tongue in rather quickly.

His own content sounds get mixed up with Jensen's quiet mewls he licks out of him, brushes his thumb up and down his taint until he spreads him like he did with Dean before. The one little thing Jared does differently though is that he pushes his thumb in the tiniest bit along with his tongue, not even down to the bed of the nail, just the very cap, but it's enough to make Jensen moan curses and pleads. It's hard to distinguish what means what, if this is alright already or not, so Jared pushes in further and wriggles his tongue. The result is a whimper and a roll of hips and he withdraws from his test object long enough to press a smiling kiss next to it before he goes back to work.

"S-shit, oh, damn, Jared; where did you learn to do this, oh sweet Lord of the- oooh-"

"Goddammit, Jay, seriously, what the-" Dean groans as Jared decides that maybe a thumb up his ass will make him more pliant, but nu-uh, only makes him shaky, not silent. "Unf, shit, you're- you're just as much of a slut as we are, aren't you? H-how my guys, Jay, seriously?"

Amazed by how perfect his work looks - two glistening holes stuffed with one fat thumb each, only up to the first digit, but still - Jared licks his lips clean from his own spit before he sits up straight and meets the boys' clouded gazes over Dean's shoulder. "Don't use that stupid word, it's bullshit." He knows they will protest so he shoves his thumbs deeper, approves of the troubled moans he earns. "We like sex and that's it. Why do you always have to be so nosy, _gosh_." Down to the knuckle and they whimper. Jared smirks. "But, just for the records… let's say I got my fair share… and then some."

He's content with his performance. They can't really interrupt him in whatever he decides to do to them in their position, presenting themselves so vulnerable and openly to him. The spit begins to dry and Jared adds some more with gentle licks along their worried rims, pulls his thumb out an inch or two and then pushes back in, agonizing and slowly, but the way they roll their hips against the movements shows him that they enjoy it about as much as himself. "I'll get the lube now, alright? Stay where you are." Voice kept low, it's like a rumble from his chest that he is pretty sure they will respect.

His thumbs pop out carefully and he has to hide his painful groan his knees remind him to spill as he gets up. Walking around the bed to the nightstand once more, Jared catches their gazes, eyes hooded and glazed over. Dean's head rests in Jensen's nape of the neck, his forearms like a triangled frame around his brother's skull. Jensen holds on to Dean's shoulders from around his back - they're packed up like the prettiest Christmas present Jared ever got.

"Stop it with the puppy eyes!" he half-warns and half-chuckles. All this picture misses are the quivering bottom lips.

Back on his knees with his upper body straight, he can still see their faces. Good. "Am I the… uhm… the first _more_ _experienced_ guy you do this with?" Not wanting to sound lame but also trying not to make his age look bad is a hard thing to do. The click from the little tube in his hands echoes loud in Jared's ears.

They nod their heads. Jared can't help but stutter a relieved sigh.

"I've never bottomed for anyone but Jen," Dean reminds him, voice like he's strangled, mouth worried.

"I know. I know, Dean. I won't hurt you. Whenever anything hurts, just say it and I'll stop."

"You mean we use the _safeword_." A question sometimes doesn't need the raise of voice at the end of it.

"Yes."

"And in case we say 'no' or 'stop' you'll continue, right?"

Jared looks up from where he's coating his fingers generously.

"The safeword's like, the secret code to _really_ stop, right?"

"I thought you _knew_ what a safeword is."

Embarrassment shines on Jensen's forehead like a neon sign. "Heard about it… but never used one yet."

"Usually, _we're_ the sluts you gotta look out for, you know?"

He's _this_ close to scolding them. Putting themselves in danger just because they're too proud to admit they haven't done this _one_ sexual thing yet... Urgh. Stupid boys.

Instead, he simply drops the lube somewhere it won't get in the way and rubs the cool liquid between his fingers. The scent wakes yet another wave of memories, makes him hum even before his fingers are back where they seem to belong tonight. "Yes, exactly. That's what it's for, boys." Even though they're experienced, they still hold their breath when Jared's fingers slip back into them. Such stupid, stupid boys. "So that I can hear you beg all prettily for me." He watches their mouths gape and fingers twitch around sheets and flesh, listens for the high jingle of their necklaces against each other, then buries his forefingers up to the knuckle. "This is _one_ ," he informs, twists slowly, one finger clockwise and the other counterclockwise. The twins melt, tremble. Jared didn't think it would be like this. Imagined them to stay pushy and cocky and laugh at him. Licks his lips. This is unexpected.

A second one pushes in and they let it. They're tight, both of them, barely open up. Jared ducks his head to kiss, right next to where his fingers disappear. "Two," he breathes and hooks his digits then, pulls each pair into opposite directions. Gaping holes always fascinated him. Such sensitive, raw, unseen flesh, only meant for his eyes and his eyes alone. The twins take turns choking on their tongues with every soft lick Jared decides to flick into their insides. Lube isn't exactly his favorite flavor but the sensations he can get like this absolutely make up for it. He could do this for hours, just finger and eat them out, feast on the image of them being stacked upon each other, listening for their needy and pliant noises here and there…

A hand comes creeping on Dean's right cheek, grabs and pulls aside, gives more space. From this angle, it has to be Jensen's. Jared kisses the nails that sink into brotherly flesh easily with it being soft enough to serve as a pillow later on, maybe, hopefully. These thoughts must be the alcohol's fault. _Must_ be.

"Three?"

"God yes, get in there, _please_." It's Jensen.

"Uh… uh-hu." Dean. Poor Dean.

Ring fingers line up, sneak in through God knows what magically appearing space. Dean hums in a not too pleasant tone, clenches down hard. "Shhh, relax. _Breathe_." Jared nibbles at the flesh between Jensen's fingers, eyes glued to where it's starting to get pink and puffy with time and stretch and movement. A gentle twist and Jensen stutters incoherent nonsense into his brother's hair, not more than a whisper. Dean isn't as quiet.

"I- I- I can't, jus- You and y-your damn orang-utan paws, g-goddammit Padaleski!"

Jared peaks up at them. "More lube?" He gets cursed at, has to suppress a laugh. "Alright. But I'll have to pull out for that. Ready?"

"W-whatever…"

"You can be such a whiny _bitch_ , Dean." The addressed boy mewls pathetically, back arched like a porn star while Jared makes great efforts to be slow and careful with what he's doing. Once his hand is free, it slams down where Jensen's isn't, resulting in both of them rocking hard with Dean's surprised whole-body-jolt. "As stated before," Jared grins, produces more lube where he needs it, ignores Jensen's laughter and Dean's curses. One of his hands slips in between their tummies and slicks up their tightly sandwiched cocks. Dean immediately shoves his hips up a bit for Jared to have more access, groans when fingers dive back into his ass while his touch-starved dick is being paid attention to. "Uh-uh, buddy, just wanna save you from getting sore here. You're gonna come from this-" All three down all the way isn't a nice way to say hello but oh how delicious Dean's sob is without the hint of a "Christo"… "-and this alone."

"You sure? I haven- oh!" He almost forgot Jensen. Almost. "I-I haven-n't, uh, got him there yet."

"Oh, I'll see what I can do." They barely can handle his fingers while his cock slicks the edges of his bed sheets in happy anticipation. This could get tricky. Jared chews on his bottom lip while the force of his wrists working them open has them softly rocking against each other, the faint sound of muffled slick from their rubbing dicks definitely not the same one their holes make with as much lube as Jared could spare for now without losing _all_ of the friction.

This is so fucked up; the mere thought that this here is even _happening_ too much to endure for Jared. Twists and scissoring movements picked up from porn and over the years give him a good impression of what his dick is gonna feel like buried in these wonderful bodies. He's gonna fuck the twins. The boys. His boys. Oh God.

Jared barely hears himself asking for something but Jensen's breathless "Born ready" could have been his dick's personal pawlovian bell. With his fingers slowly withdrawn, he has something to grab and line himself up. The view. The damn view. This should go on a post card. A damn poster, right above his bed, for Jared to look at every night and morning when he closes and opens his eyes.

The fingers left in Dean rub downwards and turn his voice up a few octaves. "Shit, 's gonna happen," he mutters against and into Jensen's mouth that gasps for air, rubs their sweaty foreheads together, "He's gonna fuck you, Jen; 's what you wanted, right? Jay's big fat cock right up your pretty ass, huh?" It has to be fate that the tip of Jared's dick kisses Jensen's hole exactly at "cock", it has to, okay? He shivers at the feeling, rubs his fingers into Dean's ass slower, almost stills. Too shaky, too caught up to do anything but this. A quick glance up to their faces and Jensen's eyes are plastered all over him. His bottom lip quivers, he reaches for Jared's hip or wrist, Jared isn't too sure, but he isn't close enough. Soon will be.

Butter-soft, both his lips and ass. Eyes almost watering, skin pink and tight, everywhere. Do it, Jared," he moans - and hiccups when Jared obeys.

Slow, slower; it feels just on the right side of too tight. Their eyes are locked, Jared's jaw going slacker by the second. Maybe he's drooling already, maybe he doesn't care, wouldn't even if maybe the world was ending outside of this room. He could die like this and it would be worth it. Swallowed up by satin, eaten alive cock-first - why the heck not. Underneath, Jensen's insides flutter around him, almost convulse, suck him in. If he was their age, he'd probably fuck in with one move, cruel and fast but oh-so amazing, make Jensen scream and scrounge his face and just pound his brains out from there on. But he isn't silly anymore, not a kid like them. He has to take care of them properly.

Jensen stares up at him in awe, doesn't speak or breathe, not audible anyway. His eyes almost flutter shut when half is about in, sends his fingers searching for Jared's skin; they stutter over it when he finds it. He mouths words, syllables, lips numb and burning. Jared shifts his weight so that he can hunch over the twins, bows down closer to their heads. He has to listen. Needs.

"G-gonna," he hears now, licks a kiss in between the letters, "Gon-na c-come, G-God, g-gonna come just w-with you going all t-he w-way, f-fuckkk, Jared, J-Ja-" The addressed man groans against teenage lips, kisses, keeps his hips slow, buries himself deeper, knows that this position is perfect for- yes, a sob when he pushes past it, sucks on Jensen's lips while the boy jerks underneath him, pants as if he was in labor, tries to kick his legs but can't with Dean's knees pinning them down. A steady stream of "shit" and "Jared" finds space in between little sucks and kisses, between Jared's spitless chuckle he finds somewhere in his throat. Dean has never been this silent, stays still between them, kisses his brother when Jared doesn't, pushes his goose bump covered skin up against Jared for him to shower it with more jagged breaths. Jared curls his fingers just to hear Dean whine, right down into his prostate like his dick is doing with his brother right about now.

Almost. It's almost in up to the ninth thick inch. Jared and Dean have to kiss tears and spit away by now. They'd never complain. "Come baby, come, come on his dick, come on, Jenny…!"

All three sob, rock with the tiniest thrust of hips against ass.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. _Oh fuck_.

Why had Jared ever stopped seeing guys? Why had he ever had second thought about the twins taking advantage of him? Why hadn't they let him do this earlier? Why on Earth, why?

Jared stares where fat tears start to build and pearl down freckled cheeks, so pink, but not nearly as pink as the pretty "o" of a mouth Jensen has right there, has and uses it to make noises Jared hadn't thought this kid was capable of. Like an animal's, maybe a girl's. He guesses it's his and God's name, magically vowed into one. It's just then that he realizes Jensen is rocking up against him and that he himself is rocking right back, that he's balls deep inside of his ass and that it's convulsing around him as if-

"Oh God," he stutters, suddenly remembers that it's called "fucking" for a reason and slams his hips down hard, gets sucked even deeper with possessive force. It's a great motivation, really, to do it again. And again. And then to not stop ever again. "Jen, Jen, oh God, Jen," he whines, gets a fist into his hair and doesn't mind being yanked around by it, just ruts into that climaxing ass, slams his eyes shut because he can't take all these impressions he gets; the wet noises and choked sounds, the iron clasp of silky-slick insides around his dick and _all_ of his dick, the twins' scent, their sweat, their hair. He can't see any more pink, not drown in any more green, stabs deeper instead, remembers his fingers and picks up where he left inside of the other twin.

Minutes pass like that, without any drop of heat or pace (Jared's doctor would be impressed if he knew), fingers and cock right where they obviously belong, where they're needed and held down like hostages. Bed and twins bang back and forth in short, quick stabs, quicker when Jared pushes himself up straight again, holds on to a thigh or hip and works his fingers like a cruel tool, fucks them deeper with the pressure of his lower stomach against them. The twins curse, maybe Jared does as well between tongues and teeth and not nearly enough boiling air.

When he slows, Jared notices how shaky his legs are already. He pulls out halfway, pinches, but no, his dick is still perfectly hard, maybe even a bit fatter than before he got in there. A lazy circle of thumb around worn-out rim has Jensen's words turn more coherent again. "Jared-" He blows lost strands of sweat-slick hair out of his eyes to watch the boy cry. There is no pity and it isn't needed. These are no tears of sadness. "-l-love y- I love you, Jared, oh, J- I…"

Jared licks his lips, helplessly. He doesn't know what to say, fortunately reaches Jensen's face to brush his fingers over his wet cheek. Tiny hushes, whispered "Jen"'s, broken by another few repetitions from Jensen and sizzling silence from Dean.

They're gonna have to talk about this, but not now.

When he pulls out, Jensen whines from the loss. Hooking his fingers and pulling them to the side makes Dean gape and jolt, the press of his dick against softened ring of muscle tickles words out of his upper mouth, not as sweet as Jensen's, more like "God, fuck, no, Jay, wait, don't, I can't". No Christo.

"Shhh, just keep still, be good." Jared wonders if he looks as ragged as he sounds like, frees his fingers and uses them to instead grab Dean's wrist whose clumsy hand tries to push him away, twists and pins down on lower back. Another set of two, presumably Jensen's, comes down beneath, slides and grabs cheeks to pull apart, make his brother gape without entering him. Jared doesn't dare to meet gleamy green over Dean's shoulder, shoves his dick up Dean's taint over his hole up to his tailbone in one smooth slide. Dean's head comes down next to his brother's with a gasp. His breath heaves the compact body in panicked intervals but Dean slowly slumps backwards into Jared's lap.

"Good boy," Jared praises.

"Fuck you," is the answer.

Like a test, he lets spongy meat catch on flexed pink. It generously gives, glistens in the dim light from across the bed. Dean's wrist shimmies in his grip, but one yank from Jared's hand and it stills again. "I'm the first one you're letting do this to you?" Of course he knows, but this isn't the point. The point is Dean rolling his lip between his teeth and tighten around the first hint of cock inside of his ass. "First one besides your pretty brother, Dean?"

The silence isn't long enough for him to punish. How sad. "Y-yes," he hears.

"First one to make you squirm on a cock, Dean?"

"G- _God_ , J-Jay! J-just-"

"Just what? Shove it right up here, huh? Up your tight little virgin ass?"

"I'm n-no-"

"Twins don't count, I thought? Wasn't that what you said?"

Silence, longer, so he starts pushing in, slow but not as slow as he did with Jensen. Dean starts to pant heavily into the sheets, throws a glance across his shoulder and back right up to Jared. He's a mess.

"Yes, you said exactly that, Dean. So, what's this here, huh? 'S this what you want? No tits and panties and skirts but a nice big cock pinning you down, spreading your ass until you cry?"

"Fuck, J-Jay!" Smart kid, turns his face into brother-shoulder and sheets instead of crying the words out into the blue of the room.

"Good God," Jensen mutters, quiet as ever, as always. Subtle. A short look assures Jared that the boy's alright, not crying anymore, blushed and fucked silly and taking part in this so prettily, holding his brother like he needs it in order to let go while Jared pushes the buttons he apparently needs to have pushed to _really_ let go.

"Did my homework thanks to you two," Jared rasps, smirks for Jensen, slides deeper.

Almost two thirds have Dean start struggling again. "I-it's- Fuck, your m-monster-dick is- S- _shit_ -"

"It'll fit." A soft rock and he melts inside of Dean, tight to the lack of experience with anything else but his brother. "It'll fit, shhh, just let me. Come on."

Dean whines, sobs. There's a first "please" at the fifth try to bottom out.

"Please what? Please stop? Please don't? Please fuck me?"

Dean just repeats, mutters the word into Jensen's neck where he's buried himself, drowns in his brother's scent, maybe needs the anchor.

He rocks back into Jared's lap, just the tiniest bit, but it softens his insides and suddenly they're flush, hips to back of thighs, balls resting against taint. Both shake. Jared feels Jensen flex his fingers that are sandwiched between them.

Small thrusts grow more violent quickly. Where Dean holds his breath in the soft beginning, he moans his way through a rough fuck not much later. He's butter in Jared's hands, his fingers not curled into a fist like before, just flapping around loosely on the small of his back. "Y-yes, oh, r-ride my ass, just like that, Jay-"

A short push is enough to get rid of Jensen's hand and replace it's warmth with the sting of a ruthless spank. Dean's cry is loud enough to scare a cat two blocks down. Hopefully, Mrs. Prensley didn't turn on her hearing aid tonight.

"It's _sir_ for you," Jared hisses and can't hide the smirk at the double-gasp, ha, no, never. It's not like he didn't overhear John demanding to be addressed like this and _only_ like this by them. It's not like he doesn't know how sick this here is. But his dick loves the way it makes Dean's insides twitch, so it has to be a good thing. A second slap, not really softer than the first. "You like this, huh? You like me splitting you open like a little bitch?"

"Y-y-yes, s-s-sir!" Dean sobs and sobs even louder under the next blow to his ass, twitches his fingers back to life thanks to the sharp pain. Even if he tried, it wouldn't make a difference on Jared's vice like grip.

"You gonna come for me like this? With your pretty ass all stretched and spanked raw?" Fuck, he _really_ did his homework. He gets pent up by his own words at this point.

"Yessir!" Dean whimpers quickly and through his teeth, presses his eyes shut under heavy blows to his ass from hips and cock and palm.

Suddenly, it's different. There's resistance - Dean's body is being pushed back into Jared's hips. When Jared looks closer, he finds Jensen's hands firm around his brother's shoulders, pressing him towards him. He throws a puzzled, blissful gaze and earns a dirty smirk.

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. The whole building is gonna wake up. The whole building is gonna know he's plowed Dean Winchester. The whole building will know he's a kinky bastard who spanked his own palm red on some eighteen-year-old's ass. The whole building can suck it up because _damn_ , something in Jared decides for him that he doesn't give one flying fuck.

It cannot feel nice, just can't, not with this pace and pressure, but Dean apparently loves it, arches his back, finds tension in his bones again while he is shoved back into these merciless thrusts Jared's hips produce despite that jogging accident six years ago. They collide in loud slaps of skin against skin, sweat and lube and probably Jensen's jizz (oh God) sticky in between them. Somewhere between Jensen's hungry eyes and Dean's pleads for "Fuck me, sir" and "Fuck me harder, sir", Jared can't deny the angry pull of his insides towards somewhere behind and/or below his cock.

"Come inside me, remember?"

Jared laughs somewhere in between thrusts; "Gotta make your brother come on my dick first, darling," angles differently and barely fucks out anymore, just in and in and in, so deep he's sure it shows on Dean's perfectly flat stomach, that he fucks right into Jensen's belly like this as well. Dean just screams; no Christo. "Come on, Dean, come on," Jared grunts, hitting handprints into Dean's ass at every second word or so.

Two of his fingers stab in right next to his dick and pull, pull wide enough to create a gap despite his dick - and Dean's voice collapses.

Insides quiver, clamp down, milk out his own orgasm further and further, but Jared grinds his teeth and fucks Dean through his one, curls his fingers inside impossibly tight in order not to scratch himself.

By the time he's done with Dean and pulled out of him, the boy's completely lax on top of his brother, just lies there while he half-heartedly tries to catch his breath.

A quick slide over Jensen's hole and they lock eyes again.

"You ready?" Jared's so close he can practically hear his balls scrounge up in between his legs. He could easily measure his pulse on that one fat vein on his dick right now but the results wouldn't be too pleasing.

Jensen's face softens as he nods into his twin's hair. Jared watches it melt even further when he pushes back in, fast and effective; it's nice and soft and wonderfully hot and feels just like home. The noises Jensen makes are subtle, a bit choked, maybe it hurts by now, but only a few thrusts and he's back to pure bliss, reaches out for Jared with both hands, hiccups a whine when Jared gently drops his chest down to him a bit more so they can touch.

A hand shuffles up his neck, into his hair. Jared can't feel his feet but fuck feet when your dick's balls deep inside of something as pretty as Jensen Winchester. They will maybe, eventually have to talk later, but for now he kisses, kisses remarkably slower than he fucks, baths in the numb tingle in his lower stomach, the pressure he's about to unload.

Jensen is oil to his joints, balm to his skin, flowers to his grave; the way he's stared up at filled with so many unsaid things he's sure the kid could write novels about it. "Gonna come?"

"Yes," he pants, mouth on Jensen's, the heated flash of silver peeking out between Dean's shoulder and Jensen's collar bone.

"Inside me?"

"Inside you, Jen," he promises, gets sucked into a deep smile and kiss. Just one more second, and-

Jensen doesn't blink. "Please cream up my ass, Jared."

He does, yes, he fucking _does_ ; almost chokes on the twist of tongues Jensen creates in between their mouths, swallows pretty moans his spilling dick pushes out of the boy. It's nothing like when he had been with the secretary or the hairdresser or the stewardess, fuck, not even with the Yoga teacher. Jensen tugs, milks him dry, squeezes down so hard on him it almost hurts. Skilled, with finesse, with intention.

But he's mean (they made him become this monster) and pulls out before he's entirely done emptying himself, instantly pushes up into Dean who startles alive with a groan and a good shot of come down his asshole. "Got some for you as well," Jared groans, smirks, brushes his fingers over Jensen's ass first and then up to where he's pulling out for good now.

Keeping himself upright isn't as easy as he wished it to be. Dizzy, fucked out, he gives them a hand each, palms their pretty butts with so much affection it makes his heart throb along with his spent dick.

God knows how Jared manages to drop down securely on the bed itself and not next to it. The twins unwind and crawl up to either side of him, push their sweaty heads into his pits so that he can put his arms around them like wings.

Not even one minute and they're out. In the living room, the movie keeps playing another three and a half minutes before returning to the title screen.

* * *

When Jared comes to, it's dark; dark and fucking cold. He tries to move, pull the covers up, but there is extra-weight that pins him down. He stills, thinks, remembers, blinks. Sweat rushes over his skin.

He remains like this, just lying unmoved in between the twins while trying hard to tell himself that it's not them who lie there. There aren't real thoughts running through his head, no reasons, no excuses. His stomach reminds him of the vodka and beer. His fingers are sticky with dried lube. He swallows heavy air.

"Hey, Jen; move over, come on." He can blame himself to death without freezing at the same time, he decides, softly nudges into Jensen's side who scrounges his nose and does what he's told with a groan and without question. Somehow, Jared manages to cover all three of them. Jensen's skin is cold as ice as it settles in right next to his own.

He should say something. Do something. Now.

Jensen's fingers find his chest, tap over it as in a dance.

They're eye up to eye after a few moments of silence and initiative from Jensen. Like this, it's easy to really look at him, awake and sad.

He doesn't push Jensen away when his lips come down on his own. Doesn't, does nothing. Nothing but kissing back the slightest bit. The key slips over his skin in ruthless, burning cold.

It feels like minutes when Jensen pulls back, nudges their noses together.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I- I'm stupid."

Jared huffs, quiet, in order not to wake Dean. "Yes. Yes, you are." Dean. The boy nestled into his ribs bunches his fists like a newborn with his knees pulled up to his chest. Jared wonders when it had been the last time he hasn't slept right next to his twin. "You'll make him jealous," he mutters without knowing why, strokes Dean's hair.

"I don't care." It's fierce.

"He'll be mad," he adds.

Jensen rubs their cheeks together, stubble against beard, kisses where sideburn fades into ear. "Don't mind him. He's the _real_ stupid one of us. Stole all his oxygen back in the womb. Heh." He laughs drily, pecks another kiss.

"But I'm. I'm _old_ ," Jared tries.

"And I'm stupid," Jensen answers.

They kiss again, slow, slow enough to dry the sweat on Jared's skin.

Next to them, Dean mumbles something into his fists.

The key between them warms.


End file.
